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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227684">the last great american dynasty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/americamarauders/pseuds/americamarauders'>americamarauders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:55:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/americamarauders/pseuds/americamarauders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story on how she lived her life after her sweetheart was kiiled during the war.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the last great american dynasty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>it’s been a while since i last worked on this and i think it’s a bit choppy, but i hope y’all like it. it’s slightly inspired by taylor siwft’s song the last great american dynasty.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn’t expect to meet him. The usual parties her father threw were filled to the brim with spoiled brats and entitled jerks. But he wasn’t one of them. </p><p> He wore a crisp blue suit, his hair gelled back and his eyes bright like the sun. His smile was infectious and she found herself smiling from across the room just seeing the sight. He made his way towards her and she didn’t imagine how much her world would change.</p><p> Bucky, that’s what his name was, had not come to one of those gatherings before. It was usually his father that came. But his father was out of town, and he was to take over the small company soon anyway, so he came. His bright smile and twinkling blue eyes knocked her world out of its axis. </p><p> They talked all night. Not those pretentious, boring conversations. Actual conversations. He told her stories about his sisters and his best friend. How his best friend was the best person in the world, how he struggled so much and yet never once lost his kindness. How his sisters were always up to mischief. Bucky’s eyes shine bright at those simple anecdotes, and she shone with him, for him. </p><p> After that, he would sneak in through her window some nights and they would talk in hushed tones or nap cuddled to each other. He would leave by dawn, a couple of hours before his Father expected him to appear and help him with the business. Other nights, he would appear by the front door, by the end of the afternoon a bouquet of flowers in his hand and the most charming smile she had ever seen. He would hand her the flowers and shake her father’s hand and then he would whisk her to dance the night away. </p><p> And then….And then the war happened. And her heart would beat stronger and more anxiously every time she remembered that soon Bucky would be one of those boys that needed to enlist. He would say that everything would be fine, he would kiss her worries away leaving her flushed and distracted, only focusing on getting his lips back on her again. </p><p> But he got drafted. 107th infantry, leaving to the other side of the ocean, first thing after that 1A was seen by him. Bucky took her out dancing the night before he was sent away from her. She was left with a promise: he would go back to her, no matter what. And then he gave her a ring. Not something that would symbolize the promise of marriage, but the promise of his love. </p><p> He left with her heart in his pocket. She cried the entire day after she was him waving from the ship, him getting smaller the more the embarkation got away from her. Steve consoled her, held her hand and told her everything would be okay. But he too left for bootcamp, leaving her for the war. </p><p>   he took over the company soon after her dad fell sick. It was a couple of years into the war, the ring Bucky had given her heavy on her finger. They exchanged letters, he would profess his love in every single one of them. But she could tell his exhaustion, she could tell the trauma he was facing. Then the letters stopped altogether for months. And she braced for the worst. </p><p> She buried herself in work and money and lavish parties for those horrible months. She filled her pool with champagne, swam in it with the best artists in New York. Inside she was bleeding, absent of a heart. She missed Bucky. She missed everything about him. </p><p> A letter came in the mail with his hand-writing on it and suddenly the parties weren’t needed anymore. He told her Steve was different now, like someone had injected steroids on him, and someone most likely had. He told her he had been captured and taken as a POW for those months he didn’t write.  He was sorry that she worried for him. </p><p> She was just glad he was alive. She was just glad that she could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The war was ending, Hitler was nearing a dead end, the Allies would win and Bucky would come back home to her and everything would be alright.</p><p> Then again, hope really is for suckers. MIA. Three little letters changed her life forever. She had officially lost her heart. Forever. </p><p> She forfeited her right to the company. She remained on the board, but was rarely ever seen near the company’s building. She bought a house near the beach, few neighbors and quiet enough to live the rest of her life in peace. As much peace as she could get. </p><p> Sometimes she would fall back into bad habits: lavish parties, blowing her money on the ballet, not remembering enough of the night in the morning after. Most times, she would just live through the day and stare at the sea during the night, hoping and praying to whatever was out there that at least Bucky found some peace in the after life, just like she was trying to find hers. </p><p> She lived in that house for 50 years. She died in the house and left it and all of her money to Bucky’s sister, Rebeca.</p><p> And that was how Bucky discovered the house. He got a letter from a nephew he didn’t even know of that there were some letters addressed to him in the attic of his house and he would like Bucky to have them. </p><p> Bucky headed to the house, soon after he got the letter. The man welcomed him to the house–his home–and Bucky took notice of the little things about it. The walls were littered with pictures of family. Pictures of his sister growing older with her husband and kids. He guided him to a big and oddly cluttered attic. The nephew showed him a couple of boxes with Bucky’s name scribbled on it. </p><p> Bucky gave his nephew–God it was weird to call a man older than him that–a strained smile and the man left him alone. Bucky sat on the ground in front of the boxes and took out his gloves. He ran a hand through his short hair, sighing. It was weird to be in front of these. Because these things belonged to a man that was long dead. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. He was somewhere in between.</p><p> He took out a small knife from his pocket  and tore the tape that held the box closed. He opened the box carefully and took a peek inside. </p><p> There were clothes on top of it all. He took it off. A jacket, military one with Sargent Barnes stitched on it. He did know how his sister ended up with it, how it wasn’t lost in the destruction of war was beyond him. He set it aside in his lap and moved to the rest of the items in it. </p><p> There were a lot of photo albums of when he was a kid and a teen. He spent a lot of time browsing through them, trying to remember those memories, trying to convince himself it belonged to him. Once he was finished with that box he moved on to the next. </p><p> The box was filled with letters. Stacks and stacks of letters most of them addressed to him. As soon as he opened one of them he recognized immediately who wrote them. </p><p> He hadn’t thought about her yet. He had refused to. It hurt too much. But he was still there with the letters on his hands, delicately caressing them as if she was there with him. She wasn’t, and it hurt too much. </p><p> He sighed and opened one of them. It dated a week after he was declared MIA.</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>21/01/45</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              Dear Bucky, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              According to the Army, you’ve been missing for a week. I’ve been missing you for longer than that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              God, I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter, you’ll never get to read this. Colonel Phillips was very adamant that you were most likely dead. I guess I just need to get this off my chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I just miss having you around. I miss everything about you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice. A hole was carved in my chest when you left and it will never be full again. I’ll never find what I had with you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I never took the ring off. I never forgot you Bucky, not in the years you were away. Well, I guess you’ll always be away now.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m sorry we couldn’t be together for more than we were. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I love you, Bucky. I’ll always miss you, like I’m missing my heart.</em>
</p><p> He sniffed and swallowed nervously. He folded and returned the letter in the envelope. He opened another. </p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>14/01/46</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              Dear Bucky,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              It’s been a year since you were declared MIA. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I spent the day with Rebeca. She’s getting married in a couple of months and I was helping her with the planning. It was good, it took my mind off the emptiness of this day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              She’s so happy Bucky. You would have liked the guy, he’s a smart guy, like you. He’s so sweet and respectful and he’s good for her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              She went to college, Buck. Can you believe it? She wants to take over your dad’s business so she made sure she was prepared. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              You would’ve been so proud of her. She misses you. I know she does. She just never says it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>              I love you, Bucky. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> He then opened another. And another, and another and another and another. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the dusty attic. It felt like a decade. It was probably just a couple of hours. He dug through every single letter of that box, craving for those moments he lost, he was robbed of. </p><p> At the very bottom of the box he found a tiny velvet box. He opened it. The ring he had given her sat perfectly in the velvet cushion of the box. He took it. He remembered buying that ring. He had enlisted Steve to help him out, insisting he’d come. </p><p> He was so nervous she wouldn’t like it, fearing it may have been too much. But he remembered the way she smiled and teared up at his confession. He remembered how she flung herself at him, smashing her lips on his with passion and so much love. </p><p> He loved her still. He hadn’t had the chance to stop loving her. And maybe if he had he wouldn’t have stopped. He doesn’t know, he was robbed of so many things and this was only one of them. </p><p> He sighed and returned all the letters to the box. He came downstairs and chatted a bit with his nephew, before asking if he could get those boxes. He said yes, of course, mom would have wanted that. </p><p> He took those boxes to his apartment in Brooklyn. On the bad days he would read back those letters, just to feel a bit of love. On the good days, he would look at them and think about the life he’d have to live for those people he had left behind, that he was ripped away from. </p><p> He’d have to make sure he’d live his best life for them. </p>
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